A Wizard's Love Story
by Honie Bun
Summary: When Harry was hurt by his ex, how will his life change when a certain someone enters his life...again? WARNING: Harry x Draco
1. Not the end

Love.

That one word hurt him more than anyone would ever believe. How he had even survived after the incident was a miracle in itself. He felt broken. No. Not that.

He felt destroyed. Like that one person had decided to do the worst heart surgery imaginable and he was the test subject. Nothing but a black hole was left where his heart should be. Gone and destroyed the poor heart of his. Betrayal was not a thing anyone should ever feel.

EVER.

And yet here he was, betrayed and left to die by the one he had loved. Of course the love from the other half was nothing but a big fat lie. A lie that had lived for over three years. So long and yet so very easy to end. In the blink of an eye. Just like that, his entire world came crashing down on his shoulders and he saw the world for the first time with open eyes. How cruel people could be. Of course, not all people were horrible.

But he didn't know that, not yet. He was blinded by the hatred and agony. He had no idea if he could ever love anyone again. Life was just so unfair to him right now. And if you've ever been heartbroken, you know what he's going through. The feeling of utter despair and loneliness.

His family, Ron's and Hermione's, and friends tried to tell him during those three years that his 'partner' was not good for him and just using him. But, like everyone who's been in love knows that he just ignored them. His entire world revolved around that one person and now the center of his life now was the will to just stay alive.

Oh how he wished for those lips to be back on his. So intoxicating. So inviting. So cruel.

But, no, that would never happen. How could something like this happen to him? He had done the world some good for once instead of being a nuisance and this is how they repay him for all of his hard work. Life was so unfair. And yet he couldn't get the happy faces out of his mind. When he destroyed the one creature everyone feared, people rejoiced, happy to live in peace. Everyone he saw, everyone he met thanked him. Besides, without him millions of more people would be dead.

And that right there was the only reason he sat on the cold stone floor of his basement sobbing until he couldn't anymore. Four years after Voldemort had died and this was how the Boy-Who-Lived was spending his life. Empty Butter beer bottles littered the floor of the small, confined room along with used Kleenex's, all of which held dried tears this certain boy's eyes had leaked.

No one came to see if he was alright. Not a single person. Well, maybe some did, but he never would have known. How could he when he spent most of his days and nights down in the basement.

He rested his head on his bent knees when he felt his cell phone vibrating. He reached inside his pocket and brought it out only to find a text from Hermione.

The fifth one today and it wasn't even three in the afternoon. 'Harry, please answer me". He didn't want to. She would be all sympathetic towards him and tell him that his ex was stupid and didn't deserve him. Though they both are true along with many other things, he didn't need it right now. He needed someone to slap him across the face and tell him to be a man. Of course none of his friends would ever want to do anything like that or even remotely close to that.

However, he supposed he should text her back. He hasn't seen her in what felt like forever and she was the one who had always been there for him. Through thick and thin. He hit REPLY on his cell. "I'm alright. I think that the best thing for me is to get out. Can we do something?'. He sent it and placed the phone on the cold floor awaiting her reply. He stared at the opposite gray wall. How could he let himself go like this? He looked down at his clothes. Wet spots from his shed tears were visible on them in various spots, dark circles against the blue of both his shirt and jeans.

His phone vibrated on the cold floor and he quickly grabbed it, seeing Hermione texted back. 'Sure Harry, we'll go have diner. I'll meet you at your house in an hour and a half'. He sent a short 'ok' back to her and placed the phone back inside his jeans pocket. He sat crossed legged and rested his head on the stone wall behind him. He had an hour and a half to get ready. He sighed. Go out in public? With strangers? With people? How was he going to survive this? At least Hermione would be there. She would help him get through this, he hoped. If not, then no one could.

He got up with some difficulty due to being stiff. Sitting in one position for too long can take its toll on the body. He walked across the room towards the stairs, kicking bottles out of the way as he went. Clanking and clinking could be heard along with the sound of glass breaking. He would have to clean that up, but not now. Now all he was focused on was getting ready for Hermione.

He reached the stairs, his joints not stiff anymore, and he climbed them, opening the wooden door and stepping into the room he called the office. It held a wooden desk with a laptop, a printer, and many stacks of paper upon it. A rolly chair was pushed up to the desk while a floor lamp stood next to both. Empty boxes lined one wall of the office, left over from moving in. He saved them just in case he moved out of this house. Plus it would be a waste of money if he threw them out, and then he did decide to get a new place, he would have to go buy more boxes. Waste of money and time.

He crossed the room to the open door and walked into the small living room. And small it was indeed. It could only hold a blue plaid loveseat, a small rectangular coffee table with a glass top, and a flat screen t.v. hung on the wall. Added to this was a small table next to the loveseat, tucked into the corner of the room and a table lamp. Behind the loveseat, a window stood present, looking out over the front lawn.

Walking through the living room to the foyer, he quickly ascended the stairs to the second story of his small townhouse. Walking down the hallway he passed the door to his bedroom, the door to the spare bedroom, and the many pictures that lined his walls. Pictures of his friends, the ones who stood up for him, the ones he held most dear to him that have passed on. He tried not looking at the moving faces. It pained him that he couldn't save everyone. And yet, who would be able to? No one that he knew about. If someone could though, they would be the greatest person this world has ever known. A superhero.

At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and he slipped inside, starting the water for the shower. After days upon days of wearing the same clothes, he was in dire need of a shower and fresh clothes.

When the temperature of the water was to his liking, he stepped in, sighing as the water washed over his body. He stood there for minutes on end reveling at how the stress was just taken away by the pressure of the water. Soon he began to wash himself and all too soon the shower was over, the water quickly turning ice cold. Toweling himself dry, he wrapped the towel around the lower half of himself and walked to his bedroom.

His room contained the necessities. A full size bed, two bed-side tables with an alarm clock and table lamp, and a dresser with a closet just off to the side. He walked to the dresser, pulled it open and grabbed boxers and socks. In another drawer he grabbed a dark blue pair of jeans that fit him perfectly. He laid them on the bed and then walked to the closet where his shirts were hung. Shifting through them he found a black button-up shirt with red vertical stripes.

Putting on the clothes he checked his phone for the time. Four o'clock. Half an hour to go. He walked back to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.

His hair was a mess but he didn't care. He quickly brushed his teeth using mouth wash afterwards. Then he shaved. Being down in the basement for days can also take its toll on your face. That is if you are a man. To women there isn't any effect except bags under the eyes. Thankfully to Harry, he was used to sleeping upright.

He took one last look in the mirror and decided that was as good as he was going to get and headed downstairs. He stopped in the foyer when his phone went off. Another text from Hermione saying she'll be there in five minutes. Good, that'll be enough time. He grabbed his black converse and sat on the loveseat in the living room to put them on. He sat there waiting, his head resting on the back of the loveseat and eye closed, like he was going to fall asleep.

Soon he heard knocking at his door and jumped up to answer it. Upon opening the front door he grabbed his winter coat and a few flakes came flying into the house while Hermione was walking through. He put his coat on and then wrapped a scarf around his neck. He then turned to Hermione only to get tackled by her. He patted her back while her tears stained his winter coat, dark spots forming on it.

"Mione, what's wrong?" He thought it was something Ron did, or didn't do. After all, those two were dating but he didn't want to get too into all the going on between them. It was a touchy subject because, though Harry highly doubted it, Ron seemed to think that Hermione had feelings for Harry. It was like the time they all went searching for the Horcrux's all over again.

Hermione pulled back and ran her gloved hands across her face getting rid of the tears, her mascara smearing a bit. "I thought for sure I would have to drag you out of the basement". She smiled up at him. "I was wrong".

Harry smiled at her and offered her his arm, which she gladly took. "Shall we then?" She nodded and they headed out into the wintery evening, snow falling softly through the air and stirring around their feet when they walked.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	2. A Stange Meeting

Peace.

That one word relaxed him as much as possible. The restaurant was peaceful with no loud noises to distract people from their thoughts. They respected each other, something you don't witness everyday. It was definetly

a nice change of pace for him. He picked up his hot cappachino and sipped it quietly, savoring the warmth it spread through his body. He looked over the rim at Hermione, who sipped her own cappachino while

reading the latest muggle newspaper.

He smiled inwardly, seeing Hermione at peace was something he rarely got to see. Even when they were in school, she would be rushing around, cramming knowledge into her brain for the next test or essay. Even when

they were hunting down the Horcrux's she was studying, attempting to figure out the next place the hidden objects could be. To see her finally at rest, was one thing he had always wished for. That she would just take

a break now and then.

He set down his cup and leaned his forearms on the table edge. "So how's my best friends?" Hermione looked up while putting the newspaper down. Holding the cup between her hands, warming them up from the

winter weather outside. She sighed and looked out the window, fat snowflakes plastering themselves against the pane, melting and running down to the sill like tears.

"Everything is fine," she said, looking back at him. "Ron's doing good. Whenever he's not working, he's helping me remodel out house. It's quite a job, I never thought it would take so much time and work. But, it

needs to be done." She slumped down in her seat, a tear threatening to spill over the edge of her eye lid. She blinked it back and wiped the sleeve of her shirt across her face.

Harry leaned forward, worried for his best friend. "What about you? How are you holding up?" He noticed that she looked at the tiled floor, her hands clutching the cup tighter than before.

"I don't know...I mean Ron seems like he's working more than he was, spending more time at the office than at home. How are we supposed to get the house done? We need the new bedroom finished in about five

months." She looked up at Harry and leaned forward on the table. "Harry, what am I going to do?"

He didn't know what to say. How could Ron be so blind? Here was his brand new wife pregnant with their child, son or daughter, and he spent his time at the office. He could smack him for his stupidity. And while

he felt anger, he also felt sorry for Hermione. The strong one of the trio. She hardly shed a tear in front of anyone, always keeping a mask on her face to hide her true feelings. "Hermione, everything will work out. After

all, has it not in the past?" He smirked at her and she couldn't help but have a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

She shook her head slightly at his remark and looked at the people in the restaurant, studying their faces. Harry went back to sipping his warm cappachino and turned his head to look out the window when the sound

of breaking glass tore him from his thoughts. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand while Harry set his cup down so as not to drop it.

A large, beefy man with short brown hair and threatening face had his fist around the throat of an extreamly skinny man. The man had disheveled platinum blond hair; clothes that were just a size too big; a silver

ring on his middle finger, a snake slithering its way around the emerald stone in the center. The eyes, though they were sunk into his skull, were wide with terror. The beefy man shook the other man twice before

throwing him towards Harry and Hermione's table.

The man landed in a heap and didn't even bother getting up. He probably didn't want to have his windpipe crushed for good. Hermione had jumped back in her chair when the man was thrown, but now she was on her

knees next to the man, delicate hand on the man's back. Harry, on the other hand, stood while the beefy man threw a disgusted look at them and left through the doors, not even bothering to put a coat on.

Harry walked over to the nearest window and peered out, seeing the man climb on a motorcycle and peel out of the parking lot, snow scattering in his wake. Turning back around, he saw Hermione help the man up, onto his own two feet. The man leaned against the table that Harry and Hermione were sitting at just moments before. He hung his head, platinum blond hair obscuring his eyes, crossing his arms around his middle in the process. Hermione looked at Harry, questions flying through her piercing gaze.

Harry sighed and sat back down at his table, continuing to drink his cappachino, Hermione doing the same only sitting there waiting for something to happen. "Are you alright?" Looking down at the paper lying next to her, she didn't expect an answer, but when she did it confirmed her suspicions about the man. It also made Harry go stock still.

"I'm fine." He turned and thanked Hermione for helping him. He glanced once at Harry before striding across the room, grabbing his coat, and walking through the doors into the frigid air that winter had so kindly presented everyone with.

Harry stared at the doors where the man had walked through. How could he, of all people, have been in the same place, let alone the same restaurant as both himself and Hermione? It was absolutely absurd. Un-heard of. Completely against everything that the two of them believed in. To be in the same room and not make snide remarks was a miracle in itself. He just couldn't believe it. How was it possible? It wasn't. Or that was in play about three years ago. Now that they had been out of school for so long, he supposed that it didn't apply now.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, it took Hermione five times to try to get his attention, all the waving in front of the blank stare on his face. When he came round, she looked at him with concern.

"Honestly, Harry, did you not realize that it was him when we walked in? I would have thought that you would have figured that out. Just seeing him from the back, i recognized him." She shook her head and leaned back in her chair, folding the newspaper in front of her, carefully creasing the edges.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He haad been there the entire time? He even looked around and didn't see him. Or maybe he had and his brain didn't want to process the fact that the person he had seen was in fact the one that gave him the most trouble during his school years.

Sighing, he stood up, put the money on the table for his cappachino, and grabbed his winter coat on the back of his chair. Hermione stood and put her hands on the table, leaning over it. "Harry, where are you going?"

He answered her with a shake of his head. "Please, Mione, i need some time to myself." He shrugged his coat on and headed out the door, nodding his thanks to the waitress that had served them, who smiled in return. Opening the door, he stepped out onto the porch of the restaurant, smiling inward at the bustling of people passing by, getting last minute shopping done for Christmas.

The snow billowed around him as he stepped out into the evening and disappeared down the sidewalk.


	3. Comfort in the Snow

Hate.

He remembered how much he had used that word during school, especially towards a certain annoying blond that had turned his world upside-down before he even stepped through the great hall doors for the first time. He hated everything the blond did to him. He annoyed him mostly with his idiotic remarks and downright senseless jabs. School felt like Hell on Earth for him and he already had enough on his plate then.

But, ever since school ended and he brought Voldemort down to itty-bitty dust particles, he didn't know what to do with his time. Time seemed endless, infinite, never ending. And he swore that if he didn't die by the time he reached 100 he would end his life.

There were times in school where he would think about killing himself. Well, not directly, but strange accidents that would suddenly occur and end his life abruptly. Though nothing ever happened, still, when days were particularly bad these thoughts would occupy every centimeter of space in his mind. It was usually these days that everyone would sense he was in a horrible mood and a certain blond would be unusually extra nasty.

Walking through the blinding snow, flakes sticking to his hair, he wandered aimlessly with no company except his mind. Thoughts of the past scrambled to the surface. Memories he had tried to force into hiding resurfaced and brought back raw emotions. His godfathers' death, of Tonks and Lupin, and the innocent one of Cedric. That one hurt him more than it should have. An innocent wizard killed and Harry could do nothing.

Nothing but walk in the ankle deep snow that was supposed to be the road that led to the park. In the end Harry figured that when the Fates decided it was his time to die then he would and he would be happy to go. The world just hasn't seemed right since he left school.

He entered the park and walked the tree-lined path, the occasional bench passed him by but no one was sitting on them. Nor was anyone playing. White glistened all around him, covering every inch. He bowed his head against the increasing wind and walked deeper into the park, leaving a trail of footsteps behind.

He walked towards a set of swings gently blowing in the wind, snow ruffling off them as if the flakes were aggravated. On one swing sat a man, face pressed to his hands that were in his lap, hunched over like the man was sick. Blond hair almost as white as the snow itself was visible atop the bowed head and Harry guessed who it was almost immediately.

The man was dressed all in black. Black boots, pants, fleece coat and leather gloves. He wore no hat nor ear muffs. Foot prints in the snow that lead to the man were faint.

The man had been there a while.

Harry walked up, snow crunching under his boots. He pushed snow off a swing and sat down, gently pushing himself back and forth. The other man never looked up once.

"What do you want Potter?" The blondes' voice was rough, like he had just woken from sleep. Harry doubted that. How could anyone in their right mind sleep out here when it was below zero?

Harry figured he could answer the blond one of two ways. The first: say 'Nothing' and continue sitting there like a bump on a log while the other man threw insult after insult at him. The second: ask if the man was alright and probably get hit a few times and be left alone in the snow to die. Either way was bad, but Harry figured that he might take a risk this time even though every fiber in his body told him not to. His head screamed at him but he forced everything down and managed to speak.

"Just wanted to check on you, see if you were alright." The head abruptly moved and gray eyes pierced into his own green ones. Emotions swirled like a storm inside the gray eyes until they became blank. No emotions on the well-defined face either. Harry could see that his jaw was clenched tight as if the man was biting his tongue and grinding his teeth together. Cheek bones were sharper than they were in school and the face seemed thinner too now that Harry really got a chance to look. It was as if this man has not been getting the nourishment he needs.

The man said nothing after a while and moved his eyes away from Harry's to look at the snowy ground. He looked like a statue, never moving except blinking and a slight shake here and there, as if he was cold. Harry stood and did what he thought was right at the time.

He walked around so that he stood in front of the other man and when the other man looked up with questioning eyes and slight shrink back, Harry held out his hand. When the other man gave no response back, Harry beckoned for the other man to take it. It was as if the blond was afraid of Harry. That Harry would treat him horribly if he did take his hand. As if Harry would back hand him across the face.

Tentatively, the blond took Harrys' outstretched hand and stood, snow falling to the ground in a rush. Clothes on the thin body were crumpled and the man reached out gingerly to smooth them out. The boy Harry knew in school was not lost yet, just hidden behind protective layers of walls built from scratch.

Harry squeezed the other mans' hand, "Come on, Draco." Without questioning, Draco Malfoy followed Harry Potter back to Harry's home.

* * *

><p>Draco never said a word all the way to Harry's house. He was always watching his feet, carefully stepping on the soft snow as if it would break at any moment and somehow the two of them would fall through the open ground into bubbling lava. Harry, however, was a little less than gracefully and trudged through the snow as if he himself was a snowplow.<p>

Harry and Draco walked side by side and all the while Draco never let go of Harry's hand. Every time Harry would make to pull away Draco would squeeze harder and by the time they reached Harry's small two story house, Draco was nearly cutting off all blood flow to Harry's hand. Only when they were on the porch did Draco finally let go so Harry could fish out his keys and quickly unlock the front door.

Upon pushing open the door, snow fell into the house, welcoming itself on the wooden floor, water already beginning to form. Harry turned to Draco and made way for him to walk in first. Draco obeyed and stepped inside gracefully and a little cautious. Harry followed and shut the door, engaging the lock, and turned to Draco.

Draco awkwardly stood in the middle of the foyer, hands pressed to chest and eyes focused on the floor, as if the floor held some strange secret about Harry that no one, not even Harry knew.

Harry cleared his throat and the blond looked up, gray eyes dull, jaw still clenched. "Um… you can make yourself at home. Sorry 'bout the mess." Harry looked away and shrugged his coat off and hung it up next to the door, all the while being watched. He stayed put until Draco stepped forward to copy Harry's actions, then he moved past the blond, through the living and dining rooms into the kitchen, all the while stepping over bottles and used tissues. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out bacon and a loaf of bread.

"You hungry?" Harry yelled at Draco while busy trying to find a frying pan. Upon being successful, he placed it on the stove and went to cooking the bacon.

A tentative yes answered and Harry turned around to find Draco sitting at the dining room table, back perfectly straight and hands folded in his lap. A look of forlorn became evident on the pale face before quickly disappearing. Harry turned back to what he was doing and soon enough the two were sitting down at Harry's dining room table eating crispy bacon and almost burnt toast with orange juice out of a carton.

Things just couldn't get any weirder.


	4. A Quiet Winter Evening

Comfort.

Harry needed it, oh how he needed someone to comfort him. Inner desires wanted to grab him by the reins and take him on journey to find the one thing he has always wanted. Someone to love him back with everything they had.

But, at this moment, watching Draco eat with shaking hands, Harry knew that he was not the one that needed the comfort. Draco was in need of it.

Harry could see the tears gradually build up in the other mans' eyes, tears threatening to overflow. Draco would blink them back and try to hide all emotion that became evident on his pale face.

They ate in silence and when both were done and had their fill, Harry cleaned off the table, dumping the dishes into the sink and turned back around face Draco still sitting at the table. His head was bowed and Harry was reminded of an earlier memory of how he, himself, would act while sitting at the Durselys' table waiting for the nest biting jab about how useless he was.

He forced all emotions down and glanced at the clock above the stove, 9:32. Harry bit his lip and pushed himself away from the counter and crossed the stone floor until he came to stand by Draco's side. Pushing a hand through his own hair he kept biting his lip, bruising it until he could taste the iron in the blood.

Clearing his throat softly, he said "You can stay here tonight if you need to. I have a spare bedroom." Draco glanced up, no emotions visible. Carefully and gracefully as if he had to practice it daily at the manor when he lived with his parents, Draco rose from his seat and followed Harry up the stairs. When they reached the top landing, Harry opened a door to the left and gestured the blond in. Upon turning on the lights, Draco stared.

Dark blue paint covered the walls; mahogany wood covered the floor and surrounded the three floor to ceiling windows. White draperies hung over the windows and behind a large four-poster bed that had the same color as the floor, a striped blue and white comforter and pillows atop the bed. A matching dresser and two night stands were the only other furniture, lights atop each.

"I'll go get you some towels in case you want to take a shower. And I'll go get you some pajama's too." Harry quickly left the room, stilled his breathing and grabbed what he needed.

Upon returning to the guest room, Draco was seated on the edge of the bed, back hunched and starring at the floor. Harry quietly walked in and set the towels on the dresser and the pajamas on the end of the bed, hoping to quickly say good night and move on to his own room to try to sleep. He knew that he wouldn't be able to, he wasn't used to having other people in his house when trying to sleep. Though Harry had been alone for so long and it might be a good time for him to start to get used to unusual things. After all, it's not like Draco would be sleeping in the same bed as Harry. He would be across the hall. Not the same room but the same house.

He went to turn away, but a thin hand closed around his wrist and he paused turning back to look at the blond.

Draco's head was still bowed and he looked so frail, like a piece of glass threatening to break into a thousand pieces. A small 'Thank you' was croaked out and Harry stood there feeling dumb. Never in his life would he have thought that Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince and heir to the Malfoy throne would ever thank Harry for anything. Harry stood, completely shocked and when the blond lifted his head to look at Harry, new emotions emerged with him, something he had never felt before. Raw emotions that he couldn't quiet put a name to.

He nodded his head and managed to say, "You're welcome." And then he could feel a blush creep up his neck, deepening his face to a light pink. "Stay as long as you need to." The blush deepened and the pale hand fell away from his wrist and Harry turned and walked towards the door. He could hear the creaking of the bed and quietly closed the door behind him.

It would be a very difficult night tonight. Sleeping would be the farthest from his mind tonight.

* * *

><p>Tossing and turning, Harry tried with all his might to get to sleep. Nothing worked. He counted sheep, clearing his mind, even lying on the floor. Sleep just did not want to come to him. Thoughts would occupy his mind, take up every available space and drown Harry in them. Thoughts of the past, of what the future would hold. He contemplated what the morning would be like when he went downstairs and face Draco Malfoy wearing his pajamas. Dreadful.<p>

Draco was all Harry could think about; meaningless thoughts that made Harry question his sanity. It also made Harry question his sexual preference. He had always gone for the girls. Skirts with long legs, lotions moisturized skin, low-cut shirts that showed more than what the dress code at Hogwarts approved of. Flowing hair softened by many years of conditioner that smelled so sweet and felt so delicate.

Now the tables were turned and Harry felt that everyone would disown him if he ever told a single soul. He would be hunted down by the Ministry and mutilated in a deserted alley-way. The-Boy-Who-Lived would be deader than a doornail. People just didn't readily accept gays, and may he be damned by the Gods if Rita Skeeter ever found out. Search parties would surround his home before he even got a chance to eat breakfast. He wanted to at least eat breakfast before it was his time to go. That was, after-all, the most important meal of the day.

Rolling over in bed, sheets falling to the ground, Harry looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

5:17

Sighing dramatically, he threw his arms so they landed with a _thump_ and bounced a bit. He closed his eyes and stretched his legs until he could feel his joints cracking. Rolling his head a bit, he stared into the darkness above him, contemplating what he should do.

Deciding it wasn't worth having his mind filled with horrible thoughts again; he got up and crossed the room, scratching his bare chest. Oh this would be a very fun day.


	5. A Friend in Sorrow

**A/N:_ I just want to let everyone know that college is starting for me and I'm not sure when I'll have time to post the next chapter. I have been posting every two days and I want to keep it that way, but I may not always be around an internet connection. It may not be until this Saturday that I get around to posting. But if that is the case, I will post the three chapters I have missed. Thank you._**

**A/N: _Sorry this is so sad, today was not the grandest for me. But there's more action! :D ENJOY __  
><em>**

Days had gone by, one by tiring one. Draco said no more than a few words each day and never left the house. Harry would go to the store to stock up on food and since it was two days to Christmas, he figured that Draco would stay.

There went Harry's plan to stay up all night drinking to his sorrows.

When Harry got home with all the Christmas food and a little present for Draco, something didn't seem right. He dropped the food off in the kitchen on the counter and walked through the house, pulling off his gloves. The downstairs proved to be empty, so he ascended the stairs and stopped in front of the guest room, now taken over by Draco. Soft sobs could be heard from inside and Harry gently pushed on the door, opening it enough so he could slip in.

Draco glanced up, gray eyes shimmering with tears. His nose was red, his eyes puffy, and his face wet from too many tears shed. Wearing Harry's pajamas, his hands were clenched around used Kleenex.

Harry strode across the room, shedding his jacket on the way. He sat down next to Draco on the bed; all the while gray eyes watched him. He felt awkward and there was so much tension in the air. When emerald eyes met gray, Harry's heart broke. Tears were still flowing and Draco resembled a lost puppy.

So Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulders and he could feel the other man tense. Soon though, Draco leaned into Harry and Harry gathered him in his arms, gently rocking back and forth like you would if your child was hurt.

"Shhh. It's alright. Everything's going to be okay." Harry rubbed circles in the middle of Draco's back, trying to calm him down. He could feel tears soaking through the shoulder of his t-shirt, but he didn't mind. Something's you just have to just have to ignore and it can always be washed, along with the dirty pile that was in the corner of Harry's room.

Harry made a mental note to wash that later.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, dinner was being made by Harry and Draco was helping. Okay, not really. Draco just sat on the kitchen counter and watched.<p>

Still clad in Harry's pajamas, he followed every move Harry made around the kitchen with his eyes. Those gray eyes that Harry seemed to love more because of all the emotion they held. They spoke when Draco wouldn't, and that was more often than not.

Draco still wouldn't speak and after dinner, Harry flopped on the sofa and flipped through the _Daily Prophet_. The soft sound of bare feet on wood flooring was registered in the back of Harry's mind and he glanced up. Draco stood in front of Harry, head bowed and hands to his chest. He seemed to have an internal struggle with himself and finally sat down next to Harry on the tiny loveseat.

"Hi," Draco breathed, looking away from Harry as if he would be punished for speaking.

"Hey." Harry put an arm on the back of the sofa, seeing Draco visibly tense. "It's alright."

Draco only relax a bit but it was enough that Harry could see. He slowly leaned back to the back of the sofa and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. He looked oddly like a child and Harry stored that memory away, one of many stored since Draco started to stay with him. He turned back to the paper, noting that Draco didn't move.

A few minutes later, Harry couldn't stand the silence any longer. He turned towards Draco and was shocked when Draco crashed into him. Arms were crushing his middle and his face was pressed against blonde hair.

Taken aback, Harry leaned against the arm of the sofa for support and gradually put his arms around Draco, rubbing small circles in his back. Draco's body began shaking and sobs could be heard.

Another wet shirt in one day, and it wasn't even his fault.

Not saying it was Draco's fault either (it was whoever hurt Draco that was going to pay), Harry just stayed with Draco holding onto him for dear life.

Legs tangled, they stayed until Harry was beginning to doze off. Draco had finally stopped shaking and soft, even breathing could be heard from where Draco's head lay on Harry's tear-soaked t-shirt.

Harry smiled into the dimly-lit room, glad no one could see. Oh this was definitely a gift sent from Heaven.


	6. The Beginning of Something

**A/N:** _It's early! But this one was supposed to be posted on Tuesday so I thought I would give you a little treat today. I feel so bad about doing this to you guys but college calls. And college is actually really fun, and I'm learning how to draw. (Maybe I can start drawing these two lovely men. . .) Anyways here you go. And...if I can finish Thursday's fic before midnight I will post it. If not it'll be up by tomorrow. Thank you so much! :D_

* * *

><p>Waking up tangled with another person was weird. Not only that but you fought to breathe right, careful not to wake the other person. So on that cold Christmas Eve when Harry woke before Draco did, he stayed where he was. Gently stroking the blonde hair, Harry thought back to when he was a teenager and how this scenario would never have even crossed his mind.<p>

They had always been rivals, enemies, the ones you had dreams of un-likely scenarios of giant pianos falling out of the sky to crush them. Of course you never actually wanted that to happen because then you would feel like a murderer. Not something Harry wanted to feel. Although, he did kill Voldemort, but not with a killing spell.

He looked out the window, holding Draco close. Small flurries were rolling off the roofs of houses in time with the breeze. The clear sky showed the sun at its highest point although it was too cold for the sun to melt anything. Children bundled up to resemble walking marshmallows, laughed and played in the fluffy snow. Soft enough to cushion your fall and yet hard enough to pack together to make a snowball, that shattered upon impact.

Life outside the Potter home was joyous.

Life inside was relaxing.

Harry felt Draco's' breath become uneven before he heard it, alerting the raven boy that the Slytherin Prince was awakening from a deep sleep.

Harry continued to stroke the blonde, baby soft hair and when Draco became aware of his surroundings, he stiffened. Slowly raising his head, the blonde looked Harry in the eyes. Harry dropped his hand to the small of Draco's back where his other hand rested.

"Good morning," Harry breathed, smiling slightly to put the blonde at ease. Draco looked him in the eyes, blinked, and looked away gently resting his head on Harry's chest. Despite his better judgment, Harry smiled and continued to look out the window.

* * *

><p>Lunch came and went. Dinner arrived and Harry was in the kitchen. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows and he had flour down the front of his jeans. Harry was busy at work making an apple pie worthy of any Christmas Eve, when he saw a certain blonde poke his head around the doorframe of the dining room.<p>

Harry turned, blocking the messy counter with his body, determined not to let the blonde see what he was making. Harry _huffed _and rested his hands on the edge of the counters behind him.

"I told that it was a surprise." Harry glared playfully at Draco. Surprisingly, Draco had accepted Harry's confused feelings earlier that same day and in return gave Harry a little insight into how that mind worked. Draco began to talk more and they became closer within a few hours. No, there was no kissing or anything like that. Draco just began to open himself up to Harry a little bit more and was happy to accept the help Harry was ever so willingly to give.

Draco told him stories of times while they were at Hogwarts and Draco was so upset that Harry hadn't accepted him just before going into the Great Hall for the first time. So upset and hurt that he channeled his anger into revenge. He had wanted Harry to feel the same way he did. And after a while, though it was working, Draco became tired. Tired of trying to be snobbish to someone he always admired. Tired of hating someone all because that someone didn't want to be his friend. And he was tired of all the things his father was telling him to do. His father wanted his to become a Death Eater and Draco wanted no part in it. Although, in order to save his own life, Lucius Malfoy had forced Draco to take the mark, telling him he would surely get him a reserved spot in Heaven if he did. Like Hell it would. The only spot was in Askaban. Draco had admitted that his father was pronounced crazy after just months of Voldemort's death and was finally sent to St. Mungos where he later died because he was seeing too many dead people and repeatedly smashed his head into the walls.

Draco said that there was a sort of emptiness in his heart after losing his father, but soon after Lucius's death, Draco's mother came up missing. Five months later, her naked body was found in a small creak that crossed just south of Paris. Now that both of his parents were gone, Draco knew exactly how Harry felt. No one to love him and shower him in kisses even though he knew he would have rejected them. Draco told Harry that he had wished that would have cherished every memory with his family. The good ones especially. That's when Harry grabbed the blonde and held him close while Draco cried, tears staining Harry's shirt and for once Harry couldn't have cared less. Draco was the one in need now. Harry's own needs would resolve themselves in time. Draco needed Harry. And Harry would always be there for him now.

Draco batted his eyes and pouted like a child wanting candy before dinner. "No. I absolutely refuse you to see this. After dinner, yes. Before dinner, no. " Draco pouted some more but reluctantly turned around and walked away. When Harry was sure that Draco had left he turned back to his work, getting absorbed in the rhythm of slicing apples.

He was so absorbed in his work that he never heard the tiny speak of the floor as feet crossed it, nor did he hear the faint breathing, and he mostly definitely did not see the hands reaching around his middle.

Screaming as he was pulled back, Harry let go of the knife and it landed on the counter while the two men crashed to the ground.

Heart thumping, Harry lay of Draco, groaning and hid his face in the crook of Draco's neck. Trying to get his heart rate under control, he wanted to scream to the world from the highest point on Earth that Draco was indeed out of his shell. Out of the protective casing that he had built, and all of this came crashing down within hours. Harry deemed it a new world record and was determined not to get up until Draco apologized.

Draco snaked his arms around Harry pulling Harry even flusher against his lithe body. This time Draco held Harry and Harry was bound and determined not to break down, no matter how much Draco warmed his way into Harry's heart, he did not want to break down in front of the other man.

* * *

><p>Harry woke with a start, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. The house was dark and he was on something very soft.<p>

It hit him.

He was on the sofa. Reaching around, he tried to find his glasses, but instead grabbed something that radiated heat. A leg. He retracted his arm and dug his wand out of his pocket, quickly turning on the lamp beside the sofa. Light illuminated the living room and flooded into the dining room. Draco sat on the other end of the sofa, one leg under the other and head thrown back, mouth open a bit. Looking relaxed, Harry was not about ready to wake up the other man to tell him to go to bed. No, he could sleep down here, and Harry decided he would too.

He turned off the lamp, put his wand back in his pocket, and snuggled up to Draco's side, smiling slightly when an arm snaked its way around Harry's shoulders to Harry to Draco.

This Christmas was the best one yet.


	7. A Christmas to Remember

Christmas Day came and nothing special was happening. Well, nothing like opening presents and joyful children eagerly screaming for their parents to hurry up with their coffee. Nope. Absolutely, positively nothing like that happened.

In fact, Draco and Harry didn't wake up until after noon that day. Draco was up before Harry this time and gently shrugged out of the embrace that Harry had him in. Draco let the other man softly lie down on the cushions and padded quietly to the kitchen. Breakfast was on the menu even though it was technically lunch time.

.

Harry awoke to the wafting smell of bacon. Coming from the kitchen, it tickled his nose and he could practically taste it on his tongue. Harry smiled and opened his eyes. He had a clear view of Draco, a perfect view.

One that sizzled along with the Bacon.

Swaying his hips slightly and quietly humming, Draco kept one eye on the bacon while the other was kept on the home fries.

Squashing the sudden desires, Harry rose to walk into the kitchen. Draco turned as Harry approached and placed his hands on his hips, glaring slightly.

"I cleaned that mess you made last night." Harry grinned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. Blinking slowly, he kept Draco on the edge.

"No good morning Harry? How did you sleep Harry? I am truly offended." Giving a lop-sided grin, Draco _huffed_ and turned back around, rolling his eyes slightly.

"There's more Slytherin in you than you think." Draco stirred the home fries and flipped the bacon, putting the cover back on. "And you're going to have to deal with it. I'm doing all I can to not burn the house down, besides you sleep like a dog."

Harry's grin grew and he pushed himself off the counter, propelling himself towards the blonde. He snaked his arms around Draco's middle and held him against his body, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder.

"Harry," Draco breathed, letting go of the stirring spoon. It toppled over the side of the skillet and fell to the floor, spilling home fries on the way. Draco meant to bent and pick it up but Harry held him fast and Draco struggled in his grip.

"Harry, please let go of me." Draco sounded frantic, desperate even and Harry immediately let go, backing away. Draco picked up the spoon and threw it in the sink. He turned off the stove and walked into the living room. He turned the corner and hurried up the stairs. Harry heard the guest bedroom door slam.

.

Draco didn't come out of his bedroom for hours. Harry sat around mostly just moping. Being the sucker he was for being an idiot. He repeatedly beat himself up and he wasn't ready with an apology. Everyone he would try to come up with sounded generic and not like they were coming from him.

Sometimes he would pace through the house, but mostly he would sit at the dining room table and twiddle his thumbs.

"Draco. . . I'm sorry. No. Draco, I didn't think that . . . I didn't think what? That's right I didn't think. Not at all." _Sigh_ "I'll never get this right. Draco Malfoy, I'm sincerely sorry that I offended you but I love you. Oh how cliché that sounds. He would surely punch me and walk out, and then I would never have him."

Harry got up from the table and began to walk towards the stairs, thinking he would just go take a nap. Head bowed, he didn't notice that greys were watching him, nor did he notice the slender legs that were casually stretched in front of a certain blonde headed man. Nor did Harry see the smirk gradually becoming a smile. So when Harry approached the stairs and found socked feet he looked up startled.

There was Draco being the boy Harry had known in school. That smirk. That horrible smirk that had gradually warmed its way into Harry's heart, by accident of course.

Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands clenched by his sides, starring at Draco.

"H-How much did you h-hear?"

"Oh, everything Potter." A lopsided grin with slanted eyes. Yup, Draco Malfoy was back. Draco pushed himself up and descended the stairs to Harry. When he reached one step above where Harry stood, Draco stopped, arms loose at his sides. Harry starred up into those silver eyes. So much emotion.

"Malfoy's always get what they want." And then Draco descended upon Harry, capturing his lips causing Harry to still. Draco was so warm, so nice. Their mouths fit perfectly against each other. It was quick and when Draco pulled away, Harry followed after him like a lost puppy wanting a home.

Draco raised his hand, putting a single finger on Harry's lips. Harry just about whimpered but held back. If he sounded too needy then he would for sure be the bottom. He wanted to be the one in control. Of course, when one was with Draco Malfoy, you were never ever in control of any situation.

"And yes, Harry, I do accept your apology."

Smiling, Harry pushed Draco's hand away and captured his lips in a fierce and breathless kiss.


	8. Masterful Slytherin Prince

Though Harry and Draco were kissing, nothing else happened. No sneaking up to the bedroom or the bathroom. It was just kissing, with some tongue thrown in.

They broke apart and spent the rest of the day cleaning Harry's office. Well, a very poor excuse for an office. Boxes were everywhere and Draco decided it was time to get rid of things, he had had enough of Harry's house being in the state it was. And that's just what they did that Christmas day.

They sorted through boxes and anything that was labeled a year ago got thrown out, including bills. Soon the place was somewhat clean. Nope that's a lie. The place was a wreck. A pig-sty. The dump. Though you could find more useful things at a dump. Papers were thrown into messy piles, crumpled boxes lay in a corner. The computer was hidden under a pile of clothes that needed to be washed.

Draco sat crossed legged on the floor, quietly going through a box of coupons. He would take out a handful, go through them and then put them in the discard pile. Soon though, he gave up on that and just dumped the whole box into a garbage bag. Giving an exasperated sigh he looked outside and frowned.

Harry, who had been watching from the door frame with two mugs of coffee, followed suit. It was dark out. Christmas Day came to a close. Harry walked up to Draco and handed him his coffee getting a quiet thanks in return. They stood there watching the white snow fall in a background of black. A starless black sky that seemed to swallow everything.

_Ring_

Harry jumped and rushed to the clothes pile. The phone was buried as usual and by the fifth _ring_ Harry had the phone and turned it on.

"Hello?"

"_Hey Harry. Just wanted to wish you a Merry are things going?"_

"Oh their alright. Actually pretty good." Harry glanced at Draco, and Draco rolled his eyes, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"_Oh well, that's good to hear. Oh. . . Ginny wants to let you know that she's alright too."_

"That's great," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Ron, listen, you don't have to do this."

"_Harry, you two were good together. Why can't you give it another shot?"_

"Because I don't want to. I dated her once, thought I was in love and she turned me down when I popped the question. Now she wants me back? Oh no way in Hell is that happening! I don't even care for her anymore. I know it sounds harsh, but, please just stop. I'm not interested."

Harry was almost yelling by the end of his tirade, giving Draco a reason to raise his eyebrows. The blonde walked up to Harry and grabbed the phone out of his hand.

"He's with me."

"_Malf…"_

Draco hit the end button and threw the phone of the clothes, muttering something about Weasely's being ignorant. Harry stood, looking at Draco, trying to make sense of everything.

"I . . . you . . . what . . ." Harry stumbled through his words.

"Well, what? He was getting on my nerves. Besides, that should give him something else to think about." He looked at Harry and folded his arms across his chest to finalize his statement.

Harry grinned and walked up to Draco, wrapping him in a hug. He rested his head on the other man's shoulder, smiling like a kid in a candy store. Draco stood with his arms pinned between his and Harry's chests, a position that was quite uncomfortable. Draco struggled a bit and Harry let go of him, pink rising up his neck.

Draco just gave Harry a genuine Malfoy smirk and grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the office and up the stairs. They stumbled into Harry's room and Draco grabbed Harry by the waist, dragging him onto the bed with him.

Harry thought _Oh my God this is it._

Nope he was wrong. Draco rolled over to the other side of the bed and crawled under the covers, curled up on his side.

Harry sat on his side of the bed, flabbergasted.

"W-What?" Harry stuttered, blinking slowly at Draco.

Draco shrugged and patted the space beside him.

"I just want to sleep." And that was it. No more. Just sleeping. There would be no French kissing, no clothes being ripped off, no _Oh my God, why can't I walk_ in the morning. Nope, Draco was a true Slytherin through and through.

Harry sighed and crawled under the covers, fully clothed. He snuggled down in his pillow and pulled the sheets up around his neck.

Draco shimmied over to him and Harry wrapped and arm around Draco's waist. Cuddling was actually nice. He could smell Draco. Sweet as honey and rain.

Slowly sleep came to them, something they both needed. This Christmas turned out to be pretty darn good, even though it did have its downs. Chalk that up to the Slytherin Prince. The sly Slytherin Prince.


End file.
